DS3 Never Enough Time
by Denise Felt
Summary: While Commander Davenport studies the alien ship, interesting developments occur in Devilsgate.


**3. Never Enough Time**

**(A UFO Story)**

by Denise Felt 2010

_Dedicated to Louise Oatridge – talented writer, gifted artist, and good friend._

**Chapter 1**

"You did _what?_"

Jake leaned back in the leather chair and lifted a brow at Col. Lake. "You have a problem with my methods, Virginia?"

She was surprised to catch a glimpse of steel behind his dark brown eyes, so she tempered her instinctive response as she answered. "I guess I'm just a little startled that you felt the need to go to such extreme measures."

Alec sighed heavily. "When does he get released?"

"Today." Jake checked his watch and added, "In about an hour. You two know him better than I do. I'd appreciate your opinions concerning his future with the command team."

"There's a doubt then?" Virginia asked in astonishment. "Why?"

"Oh, come on, Ginny!" Alec said. "Jake can't just ignore his insubordination. He was out of line – and he knew better than to pull a stunt like that in the first place. Ed would have had his head on a platter for it."

"Commander Straker was always too lenient with him, Alec. He didn't call him on the carpet often enough, if you ask me."

Col. Freeman shrugged. "Ed admired his audacity. Because of that, he never wanted to slap him down too hard."

Ginny met Jake's eyes for a moment. "Maybe, Alec. But Straker isn't the commander anymore. And Paul should have considered that before he deserted his post."

"So," Davenport said quietly, leaning forward with his hands clasped on top of the desk. "Do you think he should be punished further for going AWOL?"

She thought about it for a moment. Paul was a good friend. At one time, he'd been even more than that. But none of that changed the fact that he often didn't think before he acted. And in his position of authority at SHADO, such impulsiveness could get them all killed. "I agree that he should have been incarcerated for desertion. It was a stupid thing for him to do. And Alec's right. Straker would have torn a strip off his hide for it. But I don't know if it's enough in itself to call for a demotion. That is what you're considering, right?"

"Yes." Jake turned to Col. Freeman. "Alec? Your thoughts?"

Freeman sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before replying. "You're putting me in a tough place, Jake. Ed let Paul get away with a certain amount of arrogance, because he thought he'd gain some seasoning over time and put it to good use. And since he was not only the commander, but a good friend, I didn't question his judgment. Now you're asking me to."

"No, Alec. I'm not. I'm only asking if you think Col. Foster should remain a viable part of the command team as it is at present? Or if he'd be of better service to SHADO in another, lesser capacity, allowing us to replace him with someone who would more suitably fit the new dynamic."

Col. Freeman met his eyes in surprise. "You have someone in mind, then?"

"I do," the commander said. "But he will be promoted whether or not Foster stays with the command team, so it's not important at this moment. Well?"

Alec sat for a moment, thinking of all the changes that had taken place since Ed's disappearance. And the changes yet to come. Since Ginny had found the portrait, he hadn't known how to deal with his grief. He was glad Ed was alive somewhere. That part was easy. But at times he missed him so terribly that he didn't know how to handle it. How did you mourn for a man who wasn't dead?

And Jake was doing such an exemplary job with HQ. God, they all had Straker's far-sighted planning to thank that the aliens hadn't been able to just come in and take them all out after he'd gone! But did he really want any more changes just now? "I don't know if Paul's got it in him to work with you, Jake, as the new commander. For all his faults, he was fiercely loyal to Ed. And it won't be easy for him to get past that. I'd say that, in the end, only the two of you can decide whether it will be effective to keep working together or not. It's not really up to us."

"Virginia?"

She met Commander Davenport's eyes and thought, _Paul will never accept someone else in the slot he wanted for himself_. But aloud she said, "I have to agree with Alec. This slap you've administered may have made him rethink some things. It's just possible that he'll fall in line and carry on, as the rest of us are doing."

"But you doubt it."

She shrugged. "I know I don't want to be the one to decide his fate without giving him a chance to prove himself first."

"Okay." Jake sat back in the chair. "I appreciate your input, both of you. For now, Col. Foster is on probation. Any infraction, any insubordination, and he's out. No more chances. Until then, we will do our best to keep him involved as an important member of the command team. However, he will not be given any information concerning Commander Straker. Are we agreed on that point?"

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Good. Now, Col. Grey's latest report on the alien ship indicates that there might be a few components worthy of further study. I'll be flying out there later today to inspect their findings and would welcome your input as well, Virginia. I know it'll mess with your work and sleep schedule, but your engineering background could really be of invaluable assistance in defining and understanding their technology."

"What time are you going?" she asked.

"1600 hours."

"I'll be ready. Will you be picking me up on the way or should I meet you at the airport?"

He smiled. "I'll pick you up. Thanks." He turned to Freeman. "Alec, I'm going to need you to fill in here tonight while Col. Lake and I are at the facility. If all goes well, we'll be back by tomorrow evening. Have Lt. Ford handle the day shift while you sleep. If my interview with Col. Foster goes well, he can help out too, although I don't want to have to count on him. I know this will put you short-handed at the studio. Can you work it out?"

"Yeah," the colonel answered. "I'll just have Miss Ealand reschedule all my meetings. The rest I can delegate somewhere. Don't worry about it. It's not a problem."

"Thanks, Alec. I appreciate it."

Ginny felt exhausted and emotionally drained. She had gone home on Thursday after the memorial and cried her heart out. She'd known it was the end. Oh, he was alive! Yes. That had been wonderful. No one had been happier than her when she'd found that portrait – and she didn't even care about the lost hours of sleep while she'd been searching. But it hadn't mattered in the end to HQ. Straker was still gone. And they all had to move on.

And now, this morning, learning about Paul. What a way to start a Monday! Damn his insolence anyway! Why couldn't he accept . . . what they'd all had to accept? Their beloved commander was history – quite literally. And the new commander was filling his shoes amazingly well, considering. She would never have believed it possible that anyone could take Straker's place – and be effective. But Davenport had. She thought once more about that glimpse of toughness she'd caught for a moment in his expression. He was as unlike Straker as night to day: from his casual wardrobe to his easygoing demeanor. But it seemed that under that nonchalant exterior, he was just as fierce a leader as his predecessor. And thank God for it! Maybe Straker had known what he was doing when he chose him as a replacement, after all.

Just as she left the main lobby of the studio, emerging from the double glass doors of the front entrance onto the parking lot, she saw Paul Foster heading toward her. Oh, great. Just what she needed.

"Ginny!" he said, coming up and taking her arm.

"Hello, Paul," she said, continuing on toward where her car was parked, thereby forcing him to either go inside the building or go with her. He chose to stay with her.

"How are you?" he asked quietly. "Are things okay?"

She met his eyes, realizing with a small shock that he expected HQ to be in an uproar over the change of command. Right. As if any of them would have survived this past week with things in chaos. _Get real, Paul! _"Everything's fine," she said, grateful once more that it was so.

He seemed nonplused for a moment, but rallied by the time they reached her car. It was a honey of a machine, a vintage Porsche with lots of power hiding under its demure navy blue hood. And it was the current love of her life.

"Why'd they call off the search so soon?" he asked. "And replace him so quickly? What's really going on, Ginny?"

She sighed, leaning against the door of her car for a moment. Even though they were similar in age, she had always felt years older than Paul – and for this reason. He had never been one who could handle change. "Life, Paul. Life is going on. Face it, Commander Straker is gone. But his work continues. It has to. Just with someone else at the helm. Can't you see that?"

It was obvious from the way he compressed his lips that there was a great deal he wanted to say about that, but he held it in. "What was the memorial like? Did you speak?"

She opened her door and slid inside. "No. None of the command team spoke, except Commander Davenport. Peter spoke, and a few of the others who've been here forever. Didn't you watch the memorial?"

He looked away. "No."

"Well, you should have. It was wonderful." She closed her door and started the engine, smiling slightly at its lovely low growl.

He leaned his hands on the opened window. "Is that it then?" he demanded. "Out with the old, in with the new?"

"It isn't like that, Paul. Commander Straker set things up to adjust smoothly to a change in command. You should be glad of that, not looking for reasons to be angry about it. Jake is running HQ well. Straker would be pleased."

"I see," he said tersely. "It's_ Jake_, is it? Not Commander Davenport? What, Ginny? Are you fucking him already?"

She put the car in gear and spun out of the lot, nearly clipping his toes in the process. She made it past the main gate and at least a mile up the road before she pulled over and laid her head on the steering wheel, sobbing too much to drive. Damn him. Damn him anyway! She'd done what Commander Straker wanted. She knew it, as if he'd sat there in his office and told her himself, his blue eyes stern and serious. She'd let the change of command happen. Without scenes. Without mutiny.

Okay. It had helped that Davenport was a capable leader – in spite of his careless appearance. And that he hadn't faltered once during the transition, but behaved throughout as though it were no big deal. Those things had helped.

But she'd also known that he would never have been effective if he'd faced a wall of resistance from the command team. If they'd refused to allow him – or anyone – to take their commander's place. But that kind of skewed loyalty (while it would have felt glorious at the time) would have destroyed everything that Straker had been trying to achieve with his replacement. And probably destroyed Earth, as well.

She hadn't wanted him there. She hadn't wanted anyone but Commander Straker to ever sit behind that desk. But she knew – better than anyone – that you couldn't always have what you wanted. She hadn't just laid down and let him take over, though, and she was glad that she hadn't. She'd waited until he'd earned her approval, and even then, she'd given it grudgingly. But every morning, when she woke to face another day knowing her beloved commander was gone, she acknowledged to herself also that his cause remained. And Jake was upholding that cause.

Why couldn't Paul see that? Why did everything have to be an all-out war with him? Hell, she hadn't even been able to break off their intimate relationship without him throwing a fit. She'd had to wait until he got tired of her. Until _he_ was ready to move on. Oh, she could have gotten out of the relationship when she'd been ready – if she'd wanted to fight with him for the next two years every time they crossed paths! Why was he so inflexible? Why did he take everything as a personal assault? Was he really that insular? That self-absorbed?

And now that she'd defied him, had accepted the new commander instead of fighting him to the last ditch, she'd lost Paul's friendship. He'd take it as a personal betrayal, she knew. She'd gone over to the enemy and would never be trusted again. She laid her head back against the car seat with a sigh. It hurt her unbearably to lose his friendship – especially now. They'd been part of a very good team for so many years. Now that team was dismantling – disintegrating before her eyes – and she didn't know how to stop it. First, Commander Straker; taken out of their reach, possibly forever. Now, Paul; determined to fight to his last breath any change he didn't approve of. Would Alec be next? Would his grief consume him completely, making him withdraw from all of them until there was nothing left but his own pain?

And where would that leave her?

After a long time spent staring at nothing at all through the windshield, she put the car back in gear and headed for home. She had no answers. But she had a job to do. And for now, that would have to be enough.

Straker rode into Longford on Agrippa and had no trouble finding the garrison where the troops were stationed, since the first inn he came to had a talkative ostler who (as well as knowing the way to the fort) shared several interesting stories about the military post that Straker found both highly libelous and rather humorous. He made his way through town to the main building and dismounted, tethering his horse and removing a large burlap sack from the pommel. He entered the office with it and addressed the major behind the desk.

"Good afternoon. Can you tell me who is in charge of this post?"

The major had been laboriously writing as he entered and seemed reluctant to put down his quill to answer him. He frowned and said tersely, "That'd be Col. Burgess."

When he dipped his quill into the ink to continue writing, Straker said patiently, "May I speak to him?"

Without looking up, the major answered, "He's busy."

Straker's lips thinned in a way that would have warned the major if he'd been paying attention. "Get him. _Now_."

The major rose before he realized he'd reacted to that voice, and stood at attention, blinking stupidly for a moment. Then he went into the next room to get his commanding officer.

He did not return with him. Instead, the man who swept out of the other room ahead of the major wore captain's bars and seemed to be in constant admiration of his moustache, fingering it lovingly as he spoke.

"Well then, sir. How may we assist you?"

Straker looked him over coldly. "Your name, Captain?"

The officer blinked in surprise at being addressed in such a way by a civilian, but said, "Captain Whitcomb. At your service," he added with a short bow.

"If you wish to serve me," Straker said in a tone that doubted it. "Then you'll get Col. Burgess for me. What I have to say is only for his ears."

The captain reevaluated the man before him, blinking several times as he processed the difference in the way the man was dressed with the way the man spoke. His entire demeanor reminded Whitcomb forcibly of General Mayfield, who occasionally came through and inspected the troops. But he looked like one of the nobs. It was a puzzle. But the captain was no fool. Whoever this man was, the colonel was the one to deal with him.

"Yes, sir. Right this way, if you please." And he ushered Straker past the gawking major into the other room. This room was also an office, and painfully tidy. But the room Straker was admitted to after a brief knock on the door set in the side wall was both larger and messier. A barrel-chested individual sat behind the paper-strewn desk, studying what looked like a detailed ordnance list. When he looked up to see who had entered his office, his piercing brown eyes were agate hard. And Straker realized that he was finally in the presence of the colonel.

"Yes?" the colonel barked, addressing the captain. "What's this?"

"Gentleman to see you ,sir," answered Whitcomb, bowing his way out of the room as he spoke and closing the door behind him.

Col. Burgess glowered at the man who stood before him. His men were trained to keep people away from his office. He was a busy man with heavy responsibilities. He certainly couldn't be bothered with every complaint or concern of the locals. So why had Whitcomb admitted this one? "Well?" he barked. "What do you want?"

Straker smiled softly, appreciating the colonel's gruffness. "Col. Burgess, I am here on behalf of the people of Devilsgate."

"Devilsgate?" The colonel sat back in surprise. "They don't need the military, my good man. They need a priest!"

"Yes, I can see where you might think so," said Straker patiently. "However, the devils they deal with so often throughout the year are not typical demons by any means. Although they are vicious creatures, they can be killed."

The colonel met his eyes, his own dark ones looking interested for the first time. "Killed? Are you saying you've got a body to show me, sir?" And he glanced inquiringly at the sack Straker carried.

Straker reached into the sack and drew out a red helmet, setting it on top of the papers on the colonel's desk for him to inspect. "No, Colonel. That would have brought too much attention to the matter, and you will want to keep this as lowkey as possible, I'm sure. I have brought you one of their helmets, so that you can see for yourself that they exist, and that they are a force to be reckoned with."

The colonel made no move to touch the helmet, but nonetheless observed it closely. After a moment or two, he said, "I've never seen anything like this before. You say it's a helmet?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't make much sense. It would cover the entire head, face and all. How could they breathe?"

Straker rotated it toward the colonel, so that he could see inside. "They do not breathe air, but a green liquid, as you can see from the discoloration coating the inside of the helmet."

Col. Burgess was startled. "Liquid? No one can breathe liquid! It's absurd."

"As I said," Straker answered quietly. "They are a force to be reckoned with. Their technology far exceeds our own."

The colonel frowned at him. "You seem to know a great deal about them, sir," he said somewhat suspiciously. "How is that?"

"I have fought them for many years, Colonel."

Straker's simple statement made the colonel reconsider his first, instinctive reaction to this entire business. The man did not have the manner of a zealot. Nor did he act like one of those fools always on the lookout for a new thrill or adventure. The colonel prided himself on his ability to measure a man quickly and accurately. And what he saw in the slender man before him was the calm manner of a military veteran, relating his findings to a fellow officer. Burgess didn't know how that could be, since the man was obviously from the colonies, and if he'd served in the recent war, he would never have come here to a British garrison for help. Nonetheless, he had provided proof that something strange was going on at Devilsgate, something far beyond the murmurings of a superstitious citizenry. When the colonel looked at the forbidding object on his desk, he was aware that his reaction to it was visceral. And nearly overwhelming. It frightened him, and for more reasons than the obvious. Something was going on that was outside his realm of experience. Something that hinted at greater horrors than creatures that breathed liquid. And he really didn't want to know.

He met Straker's eyes, seeing the knowledge of terrifying things behind those calm blue eyes. He swallowed. Well. Whatever might come, it was his job to search out the truth, whether he wanted to or not. "Will you leave this helmet with me, sir, so that my men can look it over? If it is as you say," and he did not really doubt that it was, indeed, _just_ as he had said, "then I shall speak with you again."

"That will be fine," Straker said briskly, hiding his relief that the colonel was even entertaining the thought of helping them. "My name is Straker. I can be reached at Claringbold Hall."

Col. Burgess frowned. "I thought that some lord and his lady lived there."

"Yes. Lady Oatridge. I am her secretary."

Burgess blinked. Of all the things this man had said during this most unusual interview, this was the most unbelievable of the lot. This man was no one's menial; that much was quite obvious. However, he was not one to question the whims of the nobility, so he merely said, "Thank you for coming today, Mr. Straker, and bringing this to our attention. I will get back with you as soon as we have reached our conclusions in the matter."

They shook hands, and Straker left the office. As he rode back to the manor, he felt both pleased with the outcome of the visit and unnerved at his own daring in approaching the military of this time period. How many inventions would now be in the hands of the British in the years ahead because of that helmet? And since the War of 1812 had yet to be fought, was he changing the course of history by putting such technology in their hands?

But in the end, there was little else he could do. The aliens had to be stopped. And the military were the only ones with the firepower to do it.

Paul entered the Control room and headed for Straker's office, only to be brought up short when the door didn't automatically open for him. He turned in surprise to look at Ford, only to find the Lieutenant's eyes on him. He came over to Ford's station at radar and said, "What gives? I have an appointment with Davenport."

"Yes, Colonel," Keith answered. "One moment, please." And he flicked a button on his console and spoke into his mike.

"Commander Davenport? Col. Foster is here to see you, sir." He paused to listen to the reply over his headphones, then said, "Yes, sir." He flicked the button to close communications and turned back to Paul.

"Commander Davenport will see you now, Colonel."

Foster turned as the office door slid open. "Asshole," he muttered under his breath as he headed toward Straker's office.

Keith was aware that he wasn't referring to him. Personally, he didn't understand why Jake was going out of his way to antagonize the colonel, but he trusted his judgment nonetheless. In many ways, Jake was as cunning a CO as Straker had been. And Keith had no doubt that he had a reason for what he was doing, even though he hadn't explained it to him.

Jake looked up as Foster entered the office and nearly smiled at the expression on the colonel's face. He could have told his friend why he'd intentionally forced Foster to accept chain of command, but he hadn't. If the colonel could accept him as the new commander, Jake didn't want any of this to even appear on his record. Let alone linger in the minds of his coworkers. But if he couldn't . . . well. Then if Keith asked him why he'd been so harsh to the colonel, he'd tell him.

The commander said nothing as Col. Foster came and stood in front of the desk, trying unsuccessfully to hide his glower. As he frowned at the frozen mural behind Jake's head, his lip curling in anger at this one small change in the way he saw his universe.

Jake pushed the button to close the office door. Whatever would be said in these next several minutes would hopefully never have to be documented. After all, he knew that mixed in with Foster's anger was a very real and vivid grief over the loss of his commanding officer. Anger was something Jake was willing to work with – and work through – in order to retain this man on the command team. Not even for Foster's sake, but for the sake of the man who had thought he showed potential.

But denial was another story altogether. And Jake had no intention of putting up with that, because denial at this point wouldn't have been for Straker's sake. It would be caused by the colonel's own arrogant refusal to accept Straker's choice for a replacement. Jake folded his hands on top of the desk and waited for the colonel to speak.

It was all Paul could do not to clench his fists on seeing Davenport sitting in Straker's chair. Damn it, the guy was his own age! Why hadn't Straker set things up to appoint one of his own command team members in his place? Why did he have to bring in this outsider? It was ludicrous! How could Davenport possibly know how to run HQ?

After a moment, he realized that the silence had gone on too long. As he looked at the man behind the desk, he saw that he was quite content to simply sit there, watching him. There was something about the expression in those hard brown eyes that reminded him that this man could make his life a living hell if he wanted.

Paul bit back the words he wanted to say, took a steadying breath, and spoke. "You wanted to see me?"

The commander stared at him impassively for a moment before replying. "Yes. Before you're allowed to return to duty, it's necessary to make sure that we are clear on a few points. Do you understand why you were detained, Colonel?"

Paul had to look away from him to answer. He was quite aware that he'd been out of line when he'd left Moonbase, even though he felt he'd had good reasons to do so. "Yeah."

"Excuse me?"

The colonel's flush deepened, turning from shame to anger in a heartbeat. "Yes. _Sir_."

Jake sat back in his chair with a sigh. "Can you justify your actions, Colonel?"

"Does it matter?" Paul shot at him belligerently.

The commander's eyebrow rose slightly. "I suppose that depends on why you felt the need to desert your post."

Paul swallowed, knowing that there was never a sufficient reason for desertion. But since Davenport was giving him the opening, he'd try to explain. "I didn't see it as deserting," he said. "I was concerned about the lack of rescue efforts being made on Commander Straker's behalf and felt that I was needed more here than on Moonbase to make sure that everything that should be done was being done to find him."

"I see. In fact, you assumed that I was part of a coup that took advantage of the commander's absence in order to establish control over SHADO."

Foster shrugged. "If you want to put it like that."

Jake's brow rose higher. "I suppose that it doesn't matter in the least to you that Commander Straker set things up to move swiftly to replace him in the event of his death? That he felt it was important that the chain of command not be interrupted longer than necessary in order to keep from giving the aliens any advantage over us?"

Paul's lips thinned. "We'd have been fine. We'd have handled it. The last thing we needed was to have to deal with somebody new coming in and taking over while we were still trying to find out what happened to him."

Jake spread his hands. "Oh. I see. In other words, you knew more than Commander Straker about how to 'handle' that kind of situation. You knew more than the man who had set this entire organization up from scratch and successfully ran it for over fifteen years."

Foster flushed, realizing all of a sudden how foolish he was sounding. "I was worried about him," he said quietly. He met Davenport's eyes and added defiantly, "I still am."

The commander said tersely, "Do you think you've honored him by your behavior, Colonel? Do you think he'd have been proud of the way you followed his orders over the past several days? If he meant as much to you as you say, why didn't you trust him to know what was best for the organization? What was best for his staff? Where in any of your doings was the respect due to your commanding officer?"

Paul stared at him, horrified to realize that there might be some merit to what he said. Of course, he'd been honoring Straker when he came to HQ to make sure the search didn't end too soon. Of _course_, he had! Straker would never have given someone up for dead without positive proof. Surely he'd have been proud of Paul for doing the same? Maybe not for the way he'd gone about it. But he'd have been proud of him, just the same. "I _was_ respecting him," he insisted.

"How?" Davenport demanded. "Tell me how your flagrant disregard for his wishes was a way to respect him. Explain to me how insubordination and desertion were qualities he would be proud to see in those he trained. Prove to me your respect, Colonel, because I haven't yet seen it."

Col. Foster turned away, his eyes clouding with tears. "I loved him," he said brokenly. "I'd have done anything for him."

Jake's voice was soft when he answered. "Then do what he wanted you to do, Col. Foster. Accept the chain of command that he himself set up. Believe that everything that could be done to find him was done. And know that those who loved him just as much as you did will never forget him nor cease to try to honor his vision for this organization."

Paul bit his lip and nodded, still not looking at him.

"That's all I ask," Jake said, then turned brisk. "You are on probation until further notice. If you can show that you truly are worthy of the honor, you will remain part of the command team here at HQ. If you cannot, you will face demotion and reassignment."

Foster looked at him in shock.

The commander continued. "I will be out of the office for the next twenty-four hours and have placed Col. Freeman in charge during my absence. You will assist him in running HQ by working his off-hours under the command of Lt. Ford."

"What?"

"If you can prove yourself trustworthy during that time, we will discuss further assignments for you when I return. Questions?"

Paul stared at him for a long moment, reeling from such a harsh judgment. But at the back of his mind, he couldn't really blame Davenport for it. It sucked, but that's the way it was. By deserting his post, he had made himself look unreliable to the new boss. He might be pissed as hell at Straker for putting anyone other than he himself in the position of being boss; but as things stood, he could either fall in line or find himself out – for good. Across his mind flashed the memory of Straker aiming a gun at him in the armory and telling him that he had become a liability. He pushed the image away and said, "No, sir. I understand."

It was the first time in the entire interview that he had voluntarily acknowledged Jake as his leader, and the commander found it encouraging. "Good," he said. "You're dismissed."

After he had gone, Jake continued his preparations for his trip to the States. He knew it was a calculated risk leaving the colonel virtually unsupervised while he was gone, but it had to be done if he was ever going to be able to trust him in a command position again. If Foster planned to cause trouble, he'd do it while the new commander was not around to stop him. Jake knew he would have to rely on Alec's good sense and Keith's unshakeable knowledge of proper procedure to keep them all out of hot water if that happened. But maybe the colonel had begun to accept his new reality at last. Jake hoped so. He had glimpsed during their talk a few of the qualities that had made Straker promote Foster in the first place, and he really didn't want to have to prove Straker wrong in his assessment of him.

The office door slid open, and Lt. Ford entered. He gave the commander a folder and said, "The duty roster for the next week, sir."

"Thanks, Keith," Jake said. He opened the folder and viewed the contents. "But I thought I told you to stop calling me sir?"

Ford sighed. "Right."

The commander's brow lifted, and the lieutenant added, "Jake."

Davenport chuckled. "Come on, Keith! It can't be that hard."

Lt. Ford grinned. "Well, I have fifteen years of ingrained habit to overcome, you know."

"I suppose so." Jake scribbled his initials at the bottom of the roster, approving it, and handed the folder back to the lieutenant. When Ford hesitated before leaving the office, he smiled wryly and said, "Yes. The interview went fairly well. I can't promise you that he won't try something while I'm gone, but I'm less worried about it than I was."

"Good," Keith said, relieved. "He's not malicious really. He's just . . ."

"I know what he's just," Jake said quietly. "But just in case, we'll hope for the best and plan for the worst."

The intercom on his desk blinked, and he frowned at it a minute before answering. Since Keith was in the office, he didn't know who would be calling him on this line.

He toggled the button. "Yes?"

"Commander Davenport," spoke a cultured female voice. "May I speak with you before you leave today?"

Jake looked in horror at Ford, recognizing the voice. But Keith just grinned in return, no help at all.

"Um. Yes. Alright, Miss Ealand."

"Thank you, Commander," she said crisply and rang off.

**Chapter 2**

"You were no help," Jake grumbled to his friend.

Keith choked. "What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. You could have called me away from the phone, told me there was an alert. A bomb. _Something!_ Instead you just stood there."

Ford struggled to hide his grin. "Sorry. Do you know what she wants?"

Jake frowned. "No. Do you?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "I have no idea. How long are you going to wait before finding out?"

The commander sighed. And got up from behind his desk. "I guess it's better to face it now rather than worry for the next two hours. But, damn it. I want some warning next time she calls down here."

"I'll try, sir."

"Keith!" the commander complained as he left the office.

"_Jake_. I'll try, _Jake_."

Davenport sighed again as he headed upstairs to face the dragon.

She emerged from his embrace flushed and breathless. "Well, sir! Whatever did I do to deserve such a welcome?"

Straker sat back on the edge of the couch and smiled warmly at her. "I am constantly amazed by your courage, my Lady."

"Courage?" she asked, bewildered.

He shook his head. "You're not even aware of it, are you? When you came down the stairs just now, do you really think I couldn't tell what it took out of you? Anyone else would still be in their bed, but not you. Here you are, a mere three days since your injury, and you're back to a normal routine. How could I not find that kind of dedication admirable?"

She smiled softly. "As much as I would like to bask in your admiration, sir, it behooves me to tell you that it wasn't dedication that got me out of my bed. It was boredom."

He kissed her hand. "Well, I can understand that sentiment as well. I never could stand the length of the recovery times my doctor felt I needed."

It bothered her to hear that he had suffered injuries in the past. "What did you do about it?" she asked.

His smile turned wry. "Usually, I went back to work anyway."

"We are quite a pair, are we not, Mr. Straker?"

"Without a doubt, my Lady."

She leaned back against the cushions. "So, how did you spend your morning, sir? Have you been galloping Agrippa across the hills?"

He sighed, running his thumb along the back of her hand. "No. Not across the hills. I made a trip to Longford."

She was surprised. "Longford? You had business there?"

He met her eyes, his own quite serious. But before he could speak, she shook her head. "Oh, Mr. Straker! You applied to the military for assistance? Did you not believe me when I told you how they viewed us?"

"Yes, of course I believed you," he said quietly. "But if you remember, I told you that they might be willing to help if we could prove that the devils were actual people instead of evil spirits."

"Yes. I remember. You mean, you actually found a way to prove it to them?"

He nodded. "I took them one of their helmets."

She gasped. "Oh! What a splendid notion! Why did I not think of that? You truly are a man of cunning, sir."

He smiled slightly. "I'm glad you think so. I sincerely hope there are no major repercussions that result from my actions. Beyond helping to stop these incursions, of course."

She looked at him quizzically. "What sort of repercussions are worrying you?"

He took her hand in both of his. "I'm concerned about any military advances they will be able to make because of exposure to the aliens. The helmet itself probably won't give them too much fodder for weapons development. Which is why I chose to take it. But once the military of this time period is involved with dealing with the aliens on an ongoing basis, sooner or later they'll get access to alien machine guns – and maybe even their ships. And that's what's worrying me."

She frowned, trying to grasp why such knowledge might bother him. "I am sorry, sir," she said finally, giving up. "I do not see any cause for alarm."

"I know you don't," he said. "Because you don't have my knowledge of future events staring you in the face. Events that I certainly don't want to be altered because of my efforts to deal with our problem here at Devilsgate."

"The future. Oh, my. I see," she said softly. "I suppose you feel that it would not be a good thing for Britain to have superior weapons in any future war?"

He sighed. "Well, in dealing with Napoleon, I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Especially since England won that war by the skin of their teeth. But the War of 1812 is a different matter. I really don't think it would be in the best interests of global politics to give England any unfair advantage in that war."

"It is rather disconcerting to hear you speak of wars to come. Napoleon, you say? 1812? That year is not so far distant."

He nodded. "I know. And if I somehow cause the US to lose that war, everything beyond that time will be changed – in ways I can't even begin to guess. But somehow I don't think it would be for the better."

"U-S?"

"What you call the American colonies."

She squeezed his hand in sympathy. "Your home country. Of course. I completely understand."

"That's not even it, my Lady," he said. "The United States becomes a major world power in the future, affecting global decision-making on a grand scale over the next two hundred years. I can't imagine the damage that would be done if England was able to subdue them in their next encounter. World War II might have been lost. The space race might never have been. Hell, SHADO itself might never even have gotten approved! The States bore the brunt of all the set-up costs, after all.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not sure I did the right thing involving the military, even though it initially seemed like the right thing to do. I don't want to go down in history as the man who made it possible for the aliens to come in and conquer the world, especially when I've spent my life doing my damnedest to keep them from doing just that."

"Is there a way to limit the military's involvement, so that such difficulties do not arise?"

He ran a hand over his face in a weary gesture. "I don't know. At this point, I've only tweaked their curiosity. They may ultimately decide not to get involved at all, which would solve my dilemma. But that won't help Devilsgate."

"I think it is far more important, sir, that the future not be changed than for Devilsgate to be safe."

"You are an incredible woman, Lady Oatridge," he said earnestly, kissing her hand again.

"I am merely being sensible, Mr. Straker."

His grin flashed. "Of course."

"Um, you wanted to see me?" he asked diffidently as he stood in front of her desk.

Miss Ealand hid a smile at his expression. He looked for all the world as if he were a schoolboy who'd been caught pulling girls' braids. "Yes, sir," she said briskly. "I realize that you do not wish to be connected with the workings of the studio. However, it was an area that was very dear to Commander Straker, and he would not be pleased to see the condition it is in at present."

Jake frowned. "Alec said he had it under control."

She gave him a look. "And you believed him?"

The commander swallowed. "Well. I guess so."

She said, "Col. Freeman does an admirable job, but at heart he is a military official. Therefore, some of his methods don't go over well in the studio. Commander Straker was much more – shall we say? – diplomatic in his dealings with studio personnel. As well as being an excellent executive."

"I see." Jake had no idea how he was supposed to fix this mess. _Damn it, Straker_, he thought to himself for the tenth time in less than a week. _Why me?_ Aloud he said, "What do you need me to do?"

She sighed. "Isn't it obvious? The studio needs a new executive producer."

He was appalled. "And you want _me_ to find one? How in the world would I do that?"

She lifted one pencilled brow. "Surely you've given the matter some thought?"

He didn't dare tell her that he'd left it all in Alec's hands. He had a feeling her answering scorn would leave scorch marks on his hide for days. "Well, isn't there a producer on staff that we can promote? Someone competent enough to handle the job?"

"Yes, there is one," she said, rather pleased that he had come up with a possible solution on his own. "However, Mr. Burton is nonmilitary. And it will quickly become a security problem if the studio head does not also have some level of military clearance."

"Oh. Okay." Jake thought furiously for a moment. "So, what you need is someone in the military who would much prefer to make movies."

"Exactly."

He nodded. "Okay. I know just the person."

She was startled. "You do?"

"Yeah. My cousin Del. How urgent is this business? I'll need to bounce the idea off my cousin first, before we decide anything conclusive."

"It will keep until you return from the States."

"Oh. Good," he said, vastly relieved that he didn't have to produce a rabbit from his hat in the next few hours. "I'll let you know what Del decides."

"Thank you, sir."

"Was there anything else?" he asked, clearly hoping there wasn't.

"No. That will be all. Thank you for taking charge of the matter, Commander."

"Sure." And he hurried away as if escaping the headmaster's office.

Miss Ealand allowed her smile to emerge once he was gone. He certainly wasn't Commander Straker. But she had to admit that he at least knew how to think on his feet. She began to have a slight hope that the studio might be able to be kept running in a manner that would have pleased her former boss. God knew that she couldn't do it all by herself.

"You look tired," he said after dinner, as they sat drinking coffee in front of a warm fire in the parlor. "Perhaps you should consider going to bed early tonight."

Her green eyes danced as she looked at him over the rim of her cup. "Will you be joining me?"

"My dear woman . . . !"

She giggled, and it stopped him before he had the chance to finish his sentence.

He sighed. There was something so entrancing about her laughter. It completely disarmed him. "Louise," he said in a more reasonable tone. "Much as I would dearly love to join you in your bed, you simply must give your ribs a chance to heal."

"Yes. I realize that, sir."

He raised a brow at her. "Then why ask?"

She grinned wickedly. "Because I enjoy hearing you speak to me in that tone."

He shook his head at her. But his lips quirked.

On a more serious note, she asked, "What are our plans for tomorrow? Should we expect a visit from the colonel?"

Straker said, "It's doubtful. They'll need time to study the helmet. And to try to figure out how it works. I'm fairly sure we'll have some breathing room before having to deal with the military again."

"Then what shall we do? I should love to go riding, but I am aware that it is a treat that will be denied me for a while yet."

"Indeed, you have been very patient with your injury, my Lady. Just a few days more, and you'll be back to your regular routine."

He paused, then said, "I shall be returning to the inn tomorrow."

"Oh, Mr. Straker!"

"Yes, I know. You want me to stay here at the manor. But you are much better now, and so I have no further excuse to remain."

"I suppose," she said sadly.

He smiled warmly at her. "You know, Louise. You do marvelous things for my ego."

She looked skeptical. "Are you teasing me, sir?"

"Not at all. It's true. It has been a very long time since anyone actively sought my company. I must say that it's quite pleasant to have someone actually _want_ to have me around."

"Are you such a difficult man, Mr. Straker?" she asked with a soft smile.

He grimaced. "It would seem that I am, my Lady."

"I have not seen it," she said.

"Well, as I said before, this time period suits me more than my own. Better manners. Slower pace. I suppose I haven't found the need to be difficult since I've been here. Although part of that reason is most likely due to the company I find myself in. You have made my life much less harder to deal with than I could have anticipated, my Lady."

"I am pleased to have it so, sir," she said, blushing slightly.

He set his cup aside, got up, and came over to her chair. Laying a lean hand on her cheek, he bent down and kissed her as enthusiastically as he had that morning.

"I need you, my dear lady," he murmured into her hair. "Much more than you could ever need me. Rest assured that the day will soon come when I shall collect on all your sweet invitations."

She blushed furiously. "Oh, Mr. Straker!"

He grinned. "Now, come. You should rest. Allow me to escort you upstairs."

She went with him quietly enough, but said as they carefully navigated the stairs, "You never said what our plans are for tomorrow."

"Well, I thought perhaps it might be a good idea to try and get onboard their ship."

"Oh!" she said excitedly. "You mentioned ships before. Do you know where the aliens keep them? Will it be a formidable task to find one?"

He realized that she was thinking in terms of sailing vessels. "Yes, I know where one is hiding right now. In Devil's Pond."

Louise frowned. "I saw no ship on the pond. Are you certain it is there?"

"Yes," he answered calmly. "But you didn't see it, because it's not on top of the water, but under the surface."

She turned pale and clutched his arm. "Oh, no! Mr. Straker, you mustn't go into the pond!"

He was surprised. "Why not?"

Her eyes met his fearfully. "Because of the dragon!"

**Chapter 3**

Ginny watched him surreptitiously from under her lashes. He alternately frowned and grinned as he worked on his laptop, and she wondered if he was instant messaging someone. A lover, perhaps? She hadn't seen any signs of him having a significant other since his arrival at HQ. But then, she was finding out that he wasn't an easy man to know. He simply had too many contradictory character traits to be easily pegged.

He was a careless dresser, but was ruthlessly organized when it came to his work. He possessed a very laid-back manner, but was definitely not casual at his core. And he had handled the change-over in command at HQ with complete assurance and confidence, while he seemed almost sheepish in a few of his one-on-one dealings with staff. It didn't add up, and she hated it when things didn't fit into their proper slots.

Added to that was the fact that she was much too fastidious in her tastes to ever pursue a relationship with someone who wore sneakers to work. But she had to admit, she thought as she looked at his unruly dark hair, he was rather cute. In a little-boy-lost sort of way. She supposed some women might find that attractive.

"You're staring," he said quietly, not looking up from his work.

She flushed, sitting back in her seat and turning to look out the small window at the night sky around them.

After a few minutes, he stopped working and glanced over. She looked magnificent in the dim lighting of the private jet's cabin, her platinum hair a shimmering frame for her face. "You had a question?" he asked, closing his laptop.

"Yes." She came up with one on the spot. "How did things go with Paul?"

Jake sat back with a shrug. "Not too bad. Better actually than I was expecting."

Her brows raised in surprise. "He's behaving?"

The commander's grin flashed. "I didn't say that, Virginia. Just that he handled it better than expected."

"What were you expecting?" she asked curiously.

"More of what I was treated to while he was in detention."

She grimaced. "Was he really awful to you?"

"You could say that," he said. "So, may I ask you a question?"

"Alright."

"What did you see in him?"

She had the grace to grimace. "You really haven't seen him at his best, Commander."

"I suppose you're right."

"He really can be charming when he wants to be."

He raised a brow. "And he charmed you?"

"Actually," she began, then paused as if wondering how much to say.

Jake sat forward. "Please. I'm interested. It might help me get a better handle on him."

She suddenly realized the disadvantage he suffered under, because he hadn't known his senior staff for years. She didn't know why, but she tended to forget that he was a newcomer. Mostly, she supposed, because he fit so well into the team – as if he'd been around forever.

"Paul really helped me during a difficult time, giving me a shoulder to lean on. Even cry on."

"You lost someone special to you?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "Craig Collins. When he was lost that time . . . before . . ."

"I see." He remembered the report of the incident. And the gut-clutching fear he'd felt knowing that his commander had been alone for a time in the vast emptiness of space with the alien-controlled colonel. "How close were you and Collins?"

She swallowed. "He'd bought a ring. Nothing official yet, but we were discussing the idea of marriage."

"So, Foster was more or less a rebound."

She shrugged. "I guess."

"And Straker?"

Ginny looked at him in surprise. "I never had an affair with Commander Straker."

"I know," he said. "And I guess I'm wondering why?"

"He didn't see me that way."

"Come on! He had eyes, didn't he?"

She smiled slightly. "Yes. An absolutely beautiful shade of blue."

He chuckled. "Yeah. They were certainly pretty. If I was a girl, I'd have gone for him myself. But that's not what I meant, and you know it."

Ginny grinned at him. "Would you really? Well, I guess that the reason the commander never considered me as a possible lover was because of Alec."

"Alec? Good God, Virginia! Did you have an affair with him too?"

"No," she said defensively. "It was a one night stand. And I don't see that it's any concern of yours."

He shook his head at her. "That's too bad. You should have realized that real best friends don't share when it comes to women."

"I didn't know they were best friends when I slept with him!" she said tersely. "I was new at SHADO. I didn't know much of anything way back then except that a charming man wanted my company for the evening. What was I supposed to do? Say no?"

Jake grinned. "So, he made sure he got to you before Straker had a chance. I wonder if it was deliberate?"

"Of course, it was," she said waspishly. "I've watched him do it thousands of times since then."

"I'll be damned!" he said softly. "Did Straker know?"

"I don't think it ever crossed his mind."

Jake shook his head again. "I'm surprised he didn't meet a tragic end."

"Commander Straker?" she asked in surprise.

"No. Alec."

She looked bewildered, so he said, "Are you going to tell me you didn't want to kill him when you realized what he'd done? Made it impossible for you and Straker to ever be lovers?"

Ginny gave a small smile. "I suppose I did. But not for very long. It wasn't anything personal. You have to understand. He'd watched the commander's marriage self-destruct right in front of his eyes. And dealt with the inevitable fallout of emotions from the commander. He didn't want that to happen again. He wanted him to be able to do his work without any outside influences making life harder for him."

"That's a very cynical outlook. Did it never occur to him that the right woman would actually have made Straker's life easier?"

She gave him a look. "This is Alec we're talking about, right?"

Jake chuckled. "Yeah. I guess you're right. But it's a shame."

"What is?"

"That you two never got together."

She stared at him for a long moment. "Why?" she finally asked suspiciously.

He rolled his eyes, as if she was slow-witted. "Because you'd have made a great couple. Surely you could see that?"

She didn't know what to say, and had to turn and look out the window for a while until her eyes cleared. Eventually, she said softly, "Thank you."

"Sure."

After several minutes of silence, she glanced over and met his eyes. "I'm not going to have an affair with you, Jake," she said quietly.

He grinned at her. "I haven't asked you to, Virginia."

She gave him a sharp nod. "Just so we understand each other."

Ginny woke when they landed and unbuckled her seatbelt to stand and stretch. The commander was still asleep, and she went to wake him. But as she reached out a hand to shake his shoulder, she stopped. He looked very much like a little boy when he slept, his lean face almost delicate in repose and his eyelashes long and silky against his cheeks. She wondered suddenly about the events in his life that had led him to the place he was now – as Commander in Chief of the most elite military force on Earth. Had he dreamed about being a soldier as a boy? He just didn't seem like the type. What had he dreamed of being? And would she ever have the opportunity to ask him such a personal question?

"You're staring again," he murmured without opening his eyes, and she jumped back in surprise.

"We've landed, sir," she said briskly before heading down the aisle to disembark, ordering her flush to fade.

Once the sound of her heels was gone, Jake opened his eyes. And grinned.

"Have you been to Fredericksburg before?" he asked her as their driver left the San Antonio International Airport and headed for the SHADO facility located in Texas hill country.

"No."

"It's a great historical spot," he said enthusiastically. "I hope we have time to visit the Nimitz Museum before we have to head home. I haven't been there since I was a kid."

"Admiral Nimitz?" she asked, intrigued in spite of herself.

"Yeah. And they even do reenactments throughout the year. If we get lucky, we might find one scheduled while we're here."

"Reenactments of what?"

He shrugged. "Different battles of World War II, mostly from the Pacific theatre. They're really cool. And there's a Japanese garden too, if I remember correctly."

"It sounds like you remember it well."

He grinned. "My grandparents took me when I was ten. We had the grandest time! My gramps was quite a trip and made every vacation special by telling me stories of how things were done in the 'old days.' He used to drive Granny crazy. She'd just roll her eyes at him – then buy me the latest spaceship model. They were a hoot."

She smiled. "They sound wonderful."

"Were you close to any of your grandparents, Virginia?"

"No. I mean, I knew them – at least my dad's parents. But they were city people and never quite understood my dad's preference for living out in the boonies. So we didn't see them often."

"What about you?" he asked quietly. "Did you prefer it too?"

She grinned unexpectedly, resembling nothing so much as a little girl up to no good. "I was such a tomboy! I could climb any tree, swing across any stream on a rope, and the frog that could elude me was never born."

He laughed, thoroughly enchanted. "In fact, you were a hellion."

Ginny chuckled. "Dad used to say if you looked up 'hellion' in the dictionary, it would have my picture next to it. Imagine my disappointment when I finally did look it up!"

He grinned, but said thoughtfully, "Maybe you just needed to look in the right dictionary. I'm sure mine has a picture of you there."

She gave him a look. "Sure it does."

"Sir?" Their escort in the front passenger seat turned and addressed the commander.

"Yes, Daniels. What is it?" Jake said.

"We're not getting through to the facility, sir, to announce your arrival."

Jake frowned, meeting Virginia's eyes for a moment. "Is it just static then?" Could the base have been bombed without anyone being aware of it?

"No, sir. The signal's fine. It's just that no one's answering."

The commander considered the implications of that for a mere second before responding. "Get there! Now!"

The driver put his foot to the floor.

Straker spent most of the morning working in the study, correcting Lady Oatridge's account books. He had the feeling the lady was avoiding him, since he hadn't been able to talk to her about it since last night when she'd made her startling announcement. She'd refused to say any more about it at the time, and became agitated when he questioned her further. So he'd dropped it, knowing that he would get an opportunity to ask her during the day. But so far, she had managed to keep him from doing so. A parcel of pomona green silk had arrived for her first thing this morning, and after exclaiming over it, she had immediately set out for Harlington to see her modiste, taking the silk with her to be made up into a morning dress. Matthew took her in the carriage, and Straker hoped that its plush seats would protect her ribs from the harshness of the road.

He rode Agrippa into the village later, taking his satchel of clothing and toiletries back to his room at the inn. The landlord was pleased to see him return, and his wife inquired after her ladyship's health. Straker said all that was reassuring, refraining from mentioning his employer's maddening refusal to explain herself. He was not foolish enough to believe in dragons, but he knew from experience that his terminology was capable of differing quite widely from hers. Although he hadn't the faintest idea what her 'dragon' could actually be!

By the time he returned to the manor, Lady Oatridge had also returned from her shopping. They enjoyed a pleasant luncheon, mostly because he did not bring up any difficult topics, instead inquiring about the style of morning dress she had decided on for the silk.

She seemed happy enough to give him details on the style and embellishments for her new dress, and he showed himself to be quite knowledgeable about current women's fashions as they discussed it, but she was not fooled by his casual demeanor. She knew that sooner or later, she would be forced to explain about the dragon in the pond. And she wasn't ready. She didn't think she would ever be ready to share that horror with anyone. But as she watched him unobtrusively as they dined, she realized that she could not do anything else but trust that lean, intelligent face. He had been so very gentle with her in all their dealings together, and she had to believe that he would not turn from her in disgust once he knew the truth. _God, please!_ she thought despairingly. _Don't let him despise me!_

**Chapter 4 **

The facility was in a state of chaos when they arrived. Security was to be seen everywhere running around on the grounds and in the corridors, and it wasn't until they had been ushered into the office that Col. Grey was using while overseeing the project that they found out why.

"Damn it, Jake!" the colonel said in frustration. "Why couldn't you have come yesterday? Everything was fine yesterday!"

"It's alright, John," the commander said soothingly. "What went wrong?"

Col. Grey sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, making it stand up. "We've lost Baxter!"

Ginny had been surprised to see the normally tidy colonel looking so unkempt, but this news was even more startling. "_What?_"

Jake held up a hand. "Define 'lost'," he said.

The colonel made a visible effort to calm himself and said wearily, "We were running tests on a piece of the equipment on the alien ship. Baxter had an idea that the figures on the dial might be increments of one kind or another, so he was adjusting it slowly to see how often each figure came up."

"Ah!" the commander said. "He was trying to find out what base system they use to number."

"Right." John swallowed, then said, "I don't know what happened next. I've watched the tape, but it doesn't really show him at the right angle to see everything. But all of a sudden, he vanished! We've been at alert status for the past hour, trying to see if we can find him."

Jake looked grim. "You won't."

Col. Grey seemed to sink into himself at that news. "It's like Commander Straker, isn't it?" he asked.

Jake glanced at Virginia. She nodded and said, "It certainly sounds like what happened to the commander. But this is actually good news."

"In what _possible_ way?" Col. Grey asked sarcastically.

She grimaced slightly. "I'm sorry, John, about your technician. But if the aliens have a device onboard their ships that will break the temporal barrier, it means we'll have a real chance of finding Commander Straker and bringing him home!"

Grey grunted, unimpressed. "Oh, yeah? And who's going to be insane enough to go near that equipment again in order to try?"

She didn't have an answer to that question.

After a minute or two, Jake said, "Keep looking for Baxter, John, but step down the alert to yellow. If we find him, great. If we don't . . . we'll deal with it then. However, I want a look at the tape of his experiment, then Col. Lake and I want to see the ship for ourselves."

Col. Grey straightened his shoulders, glad for something constructive to do. "Yes, sir."

Lt. Ford entered the HQ cafeteria and looked around as he picked up a tray to go through the line. Col. Foster sat by himself near the corner of the room, brooding into his coffee. _Perfect_, Keith thought._ He was alone_. It was a lot easier to get Paul to talk when he was by himself and not reacting to a crowd.

Ford filled his tray, then wandered toward the corner, stopping to look around as he neared the colonel's spot. After a moment, Foster looked up and noticed him.

"Ford!" he said. "Just the person I wanted to see. Have a seat!"

Keith smiled and said, "Thank you, Colonel. It's been so quiet, I decided to take my break now. You just never know when an alert will come, and I was on empty."

Paul leaned forward. "How long has it been quiet like this?"

"Since their last big attack a few days ago. I think they were expecting that one to sway things in their favor, and now they don't know quite what to try next."

Foster frowned. "Was it bad? The report made it sound almost routine."

Keith nodded. "Believe me, it wasn't. They were packing some heavy artillery. I've only witnessed one other time when they pulled that stunt, and I believe you were there at the time too."

Paul sighed. Yeah, he had been there during that frightening time, when SHADO had been left without defenses and the aliens had come, hoping to take out HQ. But Straker – crafty, wily Straker – had stopped them. How he wished Straker was still around to stop them today!

"Keith, you were here when Commander Straker disappeared. Why wasn't Alec put in charge?"

The lieutenant said, "He was. As senior officer, command shifted automatically to him."

"But he didn't stay in charge."

"Well, no. General Henderson makes the final decision in that area. But honestly, Colonel, it wouldn't have mattered. Col. Freeman would never have accepted command beyond that immediate crisis."

Paul frowned into his coffee, then took a sip. "What about Ginny? She was next in line, wasn't she?"

Ford nodded. "I don't think Commander Straker ever wanted her to have to handle everything. There have been many times I've heard him tell Col. Freeman that command like SHADO wasn't meant for a woman's shoulders, even a woman as brilliant as Col. Lake."

"Yeah, I've heard him say that too. But I never thought he'd bring in some outsider! I was next in line after her, Keith. If he wanted a younger guy, why didn't he choose me?"

_And that_, Keith thought, _was the crux of the matter_. But maybe the colonel would listen to reason. "You haven't had enough experience with HQ, Colonel. Most of your training has been in the auxiliaries: Moonbase and Skydiver."

Paul shrugged. "So? How different could it be? I'd have handled it. Are you going to tell me that Davenport had HQ experience?"

"Not HQ, Colonel. But the next best thing. He was in charge of the New York tracking station for over eleven years. And you know that it's SHADO's most important Earth resource after HQ itself."

Foster choked on his coffee. "_Eleven years?_" he said incredulously. "How is that possible? He'd have been a kid still!"

"Twenty-four, Colonel," Keith said calmly. "SHADO's youngest colonel yet. Even younger than Commander Straker was when he became a colonel."

Foster shook his head, refusing to accept it. "That makes no sense! Who would put a kid in charge of such an important facility?"

"Commander Straker would. And did. He's the one who found Jake and recruited him." As Paul just looked at him in astonishment, he added, "He's really brilliant. Not just in academics, but as a people person. His administrative abilities were off the charts on all his tests. Commander Straker told me once that he considered Jake a rare find."

"Not rare enough," Paul muttered, and Ford wisely ignored it. After several minutes of silence while the colonel brooded into his now empty coffee cup, Foster said, "So it would never have been me then."

"Maybe in the future, Colonel. With more time and experience."

Paul grunted and got up from the table. "Gee, thanks. That makes it easier to swallow. _More_ time and experience! I'm not getting any younger."

After he left the cafeteria, the lieutenant allowed himself a deep sigh. In his mind, it would be a dark day for SHADO if Foster did eventually make it to command. He was simply too uncontrolled to ever be trusted with the responsibility of the entire world. And unlike Commander Straker, Keith just didn't see that ever changing.

After notifying Alec that they'd be staying an extra day at the facility to assist Col. Grey, Jake had sent Virginia over to the hotel, telling her to get some sleep. She knew he was upset at losing that tech, although she didn't understand why he'd blame himself over it. They had to find out what they could with that ship, after all.

And they'd found out so much already! She was still amazed at the technology they'd uncovered so far in their study of the alien ship. She'd spent the afternoon going over the results from tests they had already run on different equipment onboard. It was so encouraging! And if they could eventually comprehend the workings of that temporal device, they might even be able to get Commander Straker back. And once he was back, life could return to normal.

And maybe she wouldn't be so depressed anymore. Or confused. Or unsure of herself. And Jake would probably go back to New York. To his home. To his friends, lovers – who knew? It hardly mattered. Commander Straker would be back where he belonged, instead of languishing in some godforsaken place in the past.

She met her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair before bed. Somehow that thought didn't make her any happier. In fact, it only depressed her further. What was wrong with her? Didn't she want the commander back? Of course, she did! Wouldn't she do anything to get him back home again?

A tiny voice whispered into her ear, "But then Jake would be gone."

What did she care? He wasn't anything to her. He was just another guy. And not even one who knew how to dress properly! Him in his jeans and sneakers! He meant nothing to her on a personal basis. She wouldn't let him mean anything to her. He wasn't what she wanted. Could never be the man she had dreamed about for years. She wanted _him!_ Not some pathetic replacement!

When the doorbell rang, she frowned. Who would be visiting at this hour? Then she thought, _Did someone else get lost at the facility?_ And she hurried to the door.

But when she opened it, she knew that the reason for this late night call had nothing to do with the facility. And everything to do with the man who stood in her doorway, saying nothing, just gazing at her, his rich brown eyes darkened with fatigue and need.

She could have ignored the need. She was certain that she could have. Just closed the door in his face and gone on to bed. But she could not ignore his fatigue. He looked so lost, and she realized suddenly that Baxter was the first casualty for him in his new position as commander. He was hurting. And she wanted to make that hurt go away.

She opened the door wider and let him in.

After luncheon, Lady Oatridge couldn't seem to settle in the study, and instead wandered about the room restlessly. Finally she turned to where he sat behind the desk working on the books and said, "Would you do me the honor of walking in the garden with me, Mr. Straker?"

He met her eyes, and seeing her determination in them, coupled with a fear he didn't understand, he closed the account book and stood up. "The honor would be all mine, my Lady."

Matthew did an excellent job keeping the gardens looking lovely, and the warm afternoon sun brought out the blooms in abundance, so that their way was made beautiful as they walked the paths. But as they turned down aisle after aisle, he noted that his companion wasn't enjoying the view, but looked out over the gardens blindly, her gaze locked onto some inner image that obviously distressed her. After several minutes, Straker led her to a bench under the shade of an ornamental tree and urged her to sit.

"Louise," he said, clasping her hands in comfort. "Won't you tell me what is troubling you?"

She nodded and met his eyes fleetingly before saying, "Of course, Mr. Straker. I need to explain – I know I do! – why it is so dangerous for you to venture into Devil's Pond. It's just that I've never spoken of this to anyone. _Ever_. And I'm not sure where to begin."

"When you are ready then," he said calmly, sitting back on the bench, but retaining his hold on her hand, for which she was grateful.

She took a deep breath and said quietly, "My father wanted a son, an heir to pass on the estate to who he could also raise to protect the area from the devils, just as his father had done with him. Instead he got me. When my brother was born three years later, my parents could hardly contain their joy. I was happy to get a sibling and did not realize how differently we would be raised. At first.

"I understood the need for a governess to teach me deportment and my studies. But over the years, I watched my father go off with my brother time and again to learn how to fight devils, and I didn't see why I couldn't come along. My grandfather had filled both our heads with such incredible stories that it felt wrong for them to exclude me. I wanted a part in the fight.

"It was left to my mother to explain that my sole purpose in life was to learn to handle a household for my future husband. And if I was a good girl and learned all my deportment lessons, someday I would find a kind husband who would care for me for the rest of my life."

She looked at him with a grimace. "But somehow that notion didn't appeal to me."

"I imagine not," he said, keeping his tone even with an effort. Good God! Couldn't her parents have seen what an incredibly gifted child they had been given? One with a brilliant mind and a keen determination? To waste her that way seemed unpardonably cruel. But he had to keep in mind the era in which she had been born. However, it was the first time since he had arrived here that he found himself at odds with the Georgian culture.

She nodded in agreement with his words and said, "So I snuck out often, hiding from my governess instead of learning the correct way to pour tea. I would run up the hill and search through the area until I found where they were, then I would hide in the bushes and watch them spar or throw knives or work with the crossbow. My brother couldn't wait for the day when my father would let him begin shooting the rifles, and I was so jealous that he would get to be a part of our heritage while I was left out. As if I couldn't learn to do any of those things!

"Sometimes, after they had left, I would come out from the bushes and mimic their actions, whether it was hand fighting or knife throwing. I had a small ornate dagger my grandmother had given me that I kept hidden in my stocking, so that it could be easily reached in an emergency. I practiced with it over and over. And I suppose I began to think I might actually show my father some day how adept I was becoming with it. Then he would surely include me in their exercises."

"I take it that it didn't happen that way," he said softly, trying not to dwell too heavily on the thought of her alone on that hill – a mere child in a place of unspeakable horrors.

She sighed and bit her lip. "No. One day after they had left the area, I got up to practice their moves in the clearing. But I heard a strange sound and immediately hid back behind the bush. It was an awful squeal, and it frightened me terribly, so that I covered my ears to shut it out. When I looked over at the pond, the water was bubbling furiously, and odd lights came up from the depths. As I watched in horror, a dragon appeared, raising its shining head from the pond to look around. The sun glinted off of it so brightly that it was impossible to make out its features, but its scales were silver, and its eyes were a piercing gold. As it rose from the water, it shot fire out of its mouth all around the clearing, scorching the trees and shrubbery nearby. Thankfully, I was far enough away not to get burned, but I could feel the heat of the flames in my face."

"My God, Louise!" he exclaimed involuntarily.

She looked at him in surprise. "Do you find my tale too bizarre to be true, Mr. Straker?"

He swallowed. "Not at all, my Lady. Please continue." It wasn't so much her story that he found staggering. It was the fact that she had survived that encounter. But he wanted to hear the end of the tale, so he kept his comments to himself.

After a moment, she continued. "Then the dragon let out a louder squeal than before and flew up into the sky and beyond the trees. I went home shaking horribly, and for once didn't mind being sent to my room for running off from my lessons. It might have ended there, for I had no intention of sharing such a frightening tale with anyone. Please know that."

"I do know it, Lady Oatridge," he answered.

She sighed and settled into herself again. "Thank you, sir."

"What happened to change your mind about telling the tale?"

Louise closed her eyes for a moment, then said, "Walter – my brother – caught me practicing knife-throwing. Not only was he shocked that a girl was doing such things, but I think he was also angry that I was better than he was at it. But he was only seven, after all. And I was ten. I tried to explain to him that his coordination would improve as he grew older, but he was furious with me and swore he would tell our father and get me sent away to our aunt in Bath. It was a threat I especially feared, and he knew it, because whenever I was particularly bad, my parents would threaten to send me there. And I could not leave Claringbold Hall! It was my home!"

"So you told him," he said quietly.

She nodded, very near tears. "I thought . . . I thought if I could just convince him to let me be a part of the fight, to help them against the devils, then I wouldn't have to sneak around anymore. And perhaps my father might even become proud of me."

She sank her head into her hands. "I didn't know! It never occurred to me that he would go on his own! Why didn't he go to our father with the story? Why did he go to fight the dragon alone?"

His arm came around her and held her as she sobbed. He realized now why she took it particularly hard whenever a village child was lost to the aliens. It was more than the normal horror such an occurrence would cause. It would have to be. Because it must remind her – every time it happened – of her brother.

After a while she quieted and murmured, "Do you believe me, sir?"

"Yes," he said, taking her hand in his once more. "Did you tell your parents what happened, Louise?"

She shook her head. "No. Oh, no! I couldn't! How they would have hated me!"

He sighed, knowing that she was quite possibly correct in that belief. The idiocy of short-sighted parents made him absolutely furious. He would dearly have loved to sit them both down and tell them a thing or two, but he doubted if he would have gotten through to them. They had only been thinking in the same foolish fashion as the rest of their peers, after all.

"Louise," he said, hoping that she at least would understand what he had to say. "You cannot blame yourself for what happened to your brother. It was an accident – a terrible accident. Did you never tell anyone else what happened? Mrs. Meddows, perhaps? Or Matthew? Have you carried the guilt of it alone all these years?"

"No, I told no one," she said sadly. "I am to blame, Mr. Straker. He would never have gone there if I had not told him about the dragon." She took a breath, then reluctantly asked, "Did it kill him? Is that how he died? In its fire?"

"No," he said, pressing her hand to reassure her. "It is highly doubtful that he died from a blast. It is much more likely that the aliens found him and killed him."

She shuddered, but nodded thankfully at his calm words. "I have endured the most hideous nightmares of him burning like those bushes that day."

"Look at me, Louise," he said sternly, and she braced herself for his disdain, firming her trembling lips before meeting his eyes.

His heart broke when he saw the expression of despair in her tear-streaked eyes. But his voice was firm when he said, "I will say this once more, and as many times as it takes until you get it. It was an accident. You meant your brother no harm. You didn't dare him to go, nor did you tease him into going. Therefore, you can't be held accountable for his actions."

She searched his face, hardly daring to believe that he didn't blame her. "But he wouldn't have gone . . ."

"I know," he said. "But that's what you need to understand, Louise. _He_ went. It was his decision, his choice. Not yours. You were just children. Neither of you could have been aware of the possible outcome of your actions. If you could have trusted your parents not to overreact, they could have told you that themselves and saved you years of heartbreak."

She smiled sadly, tears running down her cheeks. "Mr. Straker, somehow I do not think they would ever have held me blameless."

He sighed. "No, I suppose not. But it wasn't your fault. Let me ask you this: would you have told him if you'd thought for one minute that he would go off on his own to face the dragon?"

"No! Never!" She recoiled from the very thought of it.

He ran his hands down her arms, soothing her. "Then believe me when I tell you that it wasn't your fault."

Hope sprang up painfully into her dark eyes as she gazed at him. "Not . . . my fault?"

"No."

She collapsed into his arms and sobbed with relief, and he held her, knowing that she needed to release the pain she'd been carrying so long.

"How I wish you had trusted someone with your secret, Louise!" he murmured into her hair. "Someone who could have reassured you. I well know how guilt can destroy a person over time, twisting and rolling inside them until everywhere they turn, they can hear its accusations taunting them. Until you'd do anything for it to stop – just once – so that you could think clearly. You were just a child. Far too young to have to endure that kind of torment. Especially since you didn't deserve it."

When she had exhausted herself of tears, she tried to move away from him. But he held her still, rocking her slowly in his arms a while longer. Trying in his own way to make up for those pain-filled years. Eventually her arms came around him and held him in return.

"Thank you," she breathed against his waistcoat.

He grinned, as always bemused by her ingrained politeness. "I am at your service, my Lady."

She leaned against the ornate back of the bench with a sigh. "Now perhaps you understand why it is impossible for you to go into the pond, Mr. Straker," she said. "It is far too dangerous."

"My dear lady, your dragon is not an actual dragon, and therefore cannot hurt me if I go into the pond."

She looked at him in shock. "Not a dragon? But then, what else could it be?"

"Do you remember when I told you about the airplanes?"

"Yes. They were like carriages that flew."

"Exactly. The alien ships are similar. They are shaped rather like a dragon's head might look emerging from the water, and they are silver with gold lights around them."

She tried to line up his description with what she had seen all those years ago. "And the fire that came out of its mouth?"

"Was actually some of its weaponry," he explained.

She drew a sharp breath. "And you think the military could go up against such weapons, Mr. Straker?"

"It would be difficult," he admitted. "But we have very little alternative, my Lady. We certainly can't try to combat them without firepower of our own."

She thought for a moment, then unexpectedly asked, "If it was a weapon, why did it fire at the trees and shrubs? There was no enemy in sight for it to be attacking."

He sighed. "I don't know. All I can assume is that they burned the area to keep the undergrowth from taking over the clearing, so that they could return and use the same place again."

She turned to him, her eyes widening as a thought occurred to her. "Then perhaps we could stop them without firepower, after all. If we encouraged new trees and bushes to grow up around the pond, it would make it harder for them to return. Wouldn't it?"

He was astonished by her quick thinking. "It might work, my Lady. Of course, they might leave here and simply find another spot to land, which would endanger some other innocent village. But it is certainly worth the effort to try it, at least."

"What made them choose here in the first place, Mr. Straker? If we can determine why they chose Devilsgate, perhaps we will be able to forewarn other places in similar circumstances. Then at least, they would be prepared for what they might face."

"That is a noble objective. However, I really don't know why they chose here. It's possible it was chosen simply because it was easy to access." He suddenly remembered the iridium deposits. "I wonder . . . Lady Oatridge, does Harlington or Devilsgate have a geological society?"

"What?" she asked in astonishment.

He smiled slightly at her expression. "You see, the breakthrough we had before I was sent to this time was that they use a particular rare metal to power their ships. If that metal can be found in this area, then we will know why they have chosen Devilsgate. And why they continue to return here year after year."

"Mr. Straker!" she breathed. "Would it be possible to keep them from finding this metal?"

"We can certainly try, my Lady," he said.

"Sir, you have given me such hope for the future!" she said. "Mr. Daughtry heads Harlington's geological society. We can send him a note today asking to speak to him. Oh, but whatever shall we tell him?"

He grinned at her, taking her hand to help her to her feet and lead her into the house. "I'm sure we can find something sufficiently innocuous to say."

**Chapter 5**

"Hi! Is Jake back yet?"

Miss Ealand blinked at the bedraggled teenager who had entered the outer studio office. "No, I'm sorry," she said cooly. "He should arrive in a few hours. Perhaps I can take a message for you?"

That earned her a cocky grin, and she mentally upped the age to maybe mid-twenties. Those vivid grey eyes were surely too aware to belong to any teenager. As was that deep, raspy voice.

"No, that's okay. I know I'm early. I'll just wait."

Miss Ealand got a very sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Are you by any chance his cousin Del?" she asked, hoping that she was wrong.

"Yeah. You must be Miss E. Jake told me to stop in and see you when I got here, but – man! There was just no way to do that! This place rocks, you know? I almost took the tour, but then I remembered that I was supposed to check in with you, so I thought I'd better. So, do I show you my clearance?"

"That will be fine," the secretary said faintly, wondering what Commander Davenport could have been thinking to suggest this . . . this _person_ as executive producer! Commander Straker would be rolling over in his grave.

As she looked over the ID, she was surprised to see that Col. Sherman was a full colonel. Definitely not a teenager, she decided, glancing closer at the birthdate. "You and your cousin are nearly the same age."

"Yeah. We grew up getting each other into trouble from the get-go. Say, can I see my new office? Jake says it's really the thing."

Miss Ealand debated the wisdom of such an action for several seconds before getting up from the desk and coming around to show the colonel Straker's studio office. But any qualms she had about how Del would treat the commander's things were allayed by the colonel's first words on seeing the interior.

"Holy shit! This is amazing!"

Jake cursed himself for being ten times a fool. He should never have gone to her last night. He'd been far too vulnerable to put himself out for that kind of pain, that kind of rejection. Dammit! He'd agreed with her that they wouldn't have an affair. What had he been thinking?

But that was the problem, he realized. He hadn't been thinking. He'd been sick over the business of losing Baxter, full of the same bitter helplessness that he'd felt when he'd realized what had happened to the commander. And he hadn't even considered how she might react to finding him on her doorstep. God! He was lucky she hadn't cut him to ribbons.

He glanced at her surreptitiously across the aisle. She was staring out the small window at the passing darkness. He wished he could be sure why she hadn't told him to go to hell. Why she'd not only let him into the hotel room, but into her arms. She was the devil of a nut to crack, his dear Virginia. And if he ever hoped to win her affections, he had to handle her carefully – with plenty of forethought before any action.

Which meant no more running to her for comfort when he was hurting.

Jake sighed. At least she'd made him forget his troubles for a while. She was an incredible lover; but then, he had never doubted that she would be. All that fire and sass had to come from somewhere, and he had certainly been treated to a taste of her fire last night. He only hoped he could keep it together and manage not to end up at her door, begging for one more taste. She would despise any man who she could control, and rightfully so. And that meant that he had to keep a handle on his feelings and not let them betray him again.

He closed his eyes on another sigh. At least she had let him hold her after they'd made love. She'd seemed surprised when he asked her – which told its own tale – but she'd scooted into his arms and let him hold her until he slept. It had meant so much to him. He wondered if he would ever have the chance to tell her?

Ginny brooded out the window, thinking unkind thoughts about her commanding officer. What was with the man, anyway? He had all the predictability of a hurricane. And pretty much the same effect. She felt tousled, unsettled, and bewildered by his actions. From the first he had behaved to her in a similar fashion as Commander Straker always had; as a colleague. Valued, but nothing more than that. And she had been the one to decide 'to hell with that!' and asked him to call her Virginia. She'd been pleased – surprised, but pleased – when he hadn't taken that and run with it, treating it as though it was an invitation to get closer. He'd been cordial, even casual; but he hadn't taken any liberties. He'd valued her input as part of the team, and she had secretly breathed a sigh of relief that he was making it easy for her to do her job. She'd been so worried about how the new boss would treat her: condescendingly? lasciviously? obsessively?

But Jake had been nothing like that. Only Straker had treated her as well. He had been the first boss she'd ever had who didn't make her want to scream within five minutes of talking to him. And she hadn't expected his replacement to be of the same calibre. Yet he had been.

She still couldn't figure out how their conversation had gotten so personal on the flight to the States. One minute they'd been discussing Paul's prospects of remaining a part of the command team, and the next they'd been talking about her lovers. It had seemed so seamless, just a natural progression from one point to the next, and she had spent hours trying to figure out if it had been deliberate on his part. Even now, she couldn't be sure. He didn't appear to be devious. But then, neither did Alec, and she had reason to know that appearances were deceptive where he was concerned. But in actuality, it didn't really matter. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going to sleep with him, and he had agreed. That should have been the end of it.

So why had he shown up at her door last night? Yes, she'd been able to tell that he was hurting. But that was hardly enough reason to go to bed with someone you barely knew; someone in fact, who you had agreed _not_ to go to bed with! So why had he done it?

He had acted the entire night like a man caught up in some strong emotion. Everything he'd done, from the way he'd drawn things out as he caressed her to the way he'd wanted to cuddle afterward, told her so much about the depth of his true feelings for her. And yet that same man had awakened this morning in a maddeningly casual mood, hurrying her into dressing so they could try out the hotel's breakfast bar. Doughnuts, she had found, were his one true love.

And for the rest of the day, he had treated her as casually as if they'd never been intimate. They'd worked together at the facility, both with Col. Grey and without him, and Jake had been as cordial as he'd always been. A colleague – and nothing more. Not by one glance or word had he shown that he even remembered their night together. What the hell was she supposed to think about that? Had she dreamed the whole thing? Was he playing some twisted game with her? Some sort of power play?

She glanced over to where he sat across the aisle from her. He was asleep, his thick dark hair a wavy mess, and his sharp cheekbones softened by the stubble he perpetually wore. She sighed. He looked so harmless, she thought. So unobtrusive. Until you'd seen him in action. Until you'd glimpsed the power that hid so successfully behind those chocolate brown eyes.

_Oh, Jake!_ she thought as her grey eyes moved over his face. _What am I going to do about you?_

"You are not going alone," she said as if that settled the matter.

Straker sighed. "My dear woman," he said in exasperation. "You are hardly capable of accompanying me."

"My ribs are healed sufficiently for me to ride once more. As long as we keep to a sedate pace, I should be fine."

"And if you're not?" he asked sternly.

She shrugged. "Then I shall return home. But I truly shall be fine, sir. I need to ride again. And I need to be there when you go into the pond. You need to accept that."

He searched her eyes for any wavering, then sighed. "Very well, my Lady. You may accompany me to the pond and keep watch. But you are not to try to come after me – do you understand?"

"Into the water?" She shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no! I could not! Rest assured, Mr. Straker, that I shall not follow you into the pond."

And he had to be content with that.

They rode quite sedately down the road, and he kept a watchful eye on her on Maximus. And certainly she made a picture worth viewing in her dove grey habit. It should have been a somber outfit, but it was enlivened by touches of deep crimson piping which delineated her form beautifully. In short, she looked magnificent. And Straker found himself wondering what he was ever going to do if he managed to get back home.

He'd had hopes since they'd managed to kill the aliens that he might be able to use their ship to return home. It had been an itch at the back of his mind throughout her recovery, but he hadn't known how to tell her about the possibility. Hadn't known how he felt about it himself, really. Although he should have been glad. Delighted even. But he wasn't. Instead, he had spent the past several days slowly coming to the realization that he didn't want to even think about going back and living the rest of his days without her. Her smile, her laughter, her courage. She had taken his dull grey life – rather like that riding habit – and added color to it, making him come alive, changing him to the point where he wasn't sure he'd survive if he had to go back to black and white.

And even the sense of duty and responsibility that had been drilled into him from birth no longer had the strength to move him. He knew, as surely as if it had all happened before, that if he returned to the future, he would be dead within a year. Through an alien attack, a bomb at the studio, or a damn bus! – it hardly mattered. He'd been half-dead when he'd met her; he just hadn't been aware of it. Tired, worn down, and perilously close to burnt out completely. There had never been enough time for him to actually enjoy being alive. But now, after she'd brought him life and joy and peace, how could he go back to nothing at all?

It would kill him. It was that simple.

He stopped in the middle of the track, and when she realized it, she stopped too and came to him, laying a gloved hand over his on the pommel.

"What is it, Mr. Straker?" she asked softly.

He gazed at her concerned face a moment, unsure how to say all that was in his heart. Finally he said, "Let's not go to the ship today, my Lady. Today the sun is shining, and I find myself with a wonderful companion. Shall we ride to our hill and sit a while?"

Her dark green eyes searched his face, then she smiled warmly. "As you wish, sir. It is, as you say, a beautiful day."

They left the road and meandered toward the far hill.

"What the hell are you doing in here? And where's Miss Ealand?"

Del turned with a gasp, heart pounding in shock, from reading the plaques under the Oscars on the backlit wall display. "Good God, man! Why don't you just shoot me and get it over with?"

"I may at that," Col. Freeman growled belligerently as he advanced into Straker's office. "Come on out of here now, or I'll have to get security. Come on!"

Del took exception to being addressed as a child. "Look, whoever you are! This is my office, and I'm not going anywhere! You want to call security, fine. Call them! We'll see who gets thrown out!"

Alec blinked in surprise. "_Who are you?_" he asked in utter bewilderment.

"Finnie!" a voice called from the outer office, and Del spun around with a grin at the sight of her cousin.

"Kiki!" She squealed and launched herself into his arms, talking a mile a minute. "Hot damn! It's good to see you! I know I got here early, but this place – geez, I can't take it in! It's so totally the max! And I wanted to take the tour, but then I thought I'd better wait for you. And Miss E's been so helpful in acquainting me with all the ins and outs of things." Here she stopped to throw a grin at the secretary, who had come into the office with Jake and Virginia. "And you were so right about the office! It is cool squared! But damn! How am I going to work in this place? It's like – it's like – I know! It's like Westminster Abbey!"

"_What?_" demanded Alec, completely at sea.

She turned to him with a roll of the eyes. "Haven't you ever been in the abbey? It's so full of history you can feel it. I mean, you could just stand in one spot and close your eyes and drink in _centuries_. This office is like that. It's so full of his personality that I could close my eyes and almost see Ed standing there smiling at me, saying, 'So, Del. What do you think?'"

"I know," her cousin answered, breaking into her monologue with the ease of long practice. "That's how I felt too the first time. It'll get easier, I promise."

"Wait a minute!" Alec interpolated, seriously ruffled. "You knew Ed?"

"Sure," she answered. "He's been trying to recruit me for years. And damn! If I'd known about the studio, I'd have come a long time ago! Say, Kiki! Remember all those home videos we did as teenagers in Grampa Sherman's woods?"

"What I remember," Jake corrected her. "Is you chasing after me with the video camera until I wanted to scream."

"Excuse me," Virginia said, calmly interrupting them. "Commander Straker wanted to recruit you?"

Del grinned at her look of polite disbelief. "You've gotta be Virginia," she said. "Am I right, Kiki?"

Jake sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. I forgot about introductions. Del, this is Col. Alec Freeman and Col. Virginia Lake. Colonels, this is my cousin, Col. Delphinia Sherman. She's the studio's new executive producer. Pending Miss Ealand's approval, of course."

They all turned to look at the secretary, who smiled cooly and said, "We'll see how she does, Commander. But I have already found that under her scruffy exterior is a very organized soul, so I think we shall get along just fine."

"Jake!" Del whispered in his ear. "You didn't say to come in uniform!"

"No, no, Finnie!" he assured her. "It's all very lowkey. You did fine dressing casual."

"Okay," she said. "If you're sure. Will you give me the tour? Or do you have tons of stuff to do elsewhere first?"

Jake pulled at his ear. "Um . . . actually, Del. I haven't gone around the studio much since I've been here. I've been kept busy downstairs for the most part. But Alec knows all about the studio and will be able to show you around." He turned to the colonel. "Won't you, Alec?"

Freeman looked dubiously at her, and she grinned, cocking her hips and batting her lashes at him. "So, Alec," she said sassily. "Going to show me how it is?"

He blinked, seeming to realize for the first time that she was a woman, and not a kid. His charming grin broke over his face as he said, "Sure. My pleasure."

As they left the office, Jake's gaze followed them, a slight frown between his brows.

"Surely she can handle herself?" Virginia asked him as they entered Straker's office to head downstairs.

Jake met her eyes and said ruefully, "It's not her I'm worried about."

He helped her dismount when they reached the hill, but did not immediately release her. She looked up at him in surprise, and found him gazing back at her with a great deal of warmth in his blue eyes.

"The very first time I did this for you was the day we met. Do you remember?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she said, her heart starting to beat faster.

"I knew then that you would have an impact on my life." He lifted a hand to her cheek and caressed it. "But even I had no idea how much of one." His grin flashed momentarily before he became serious once more. "You see, I thought I could handle what you made me feel."

"Mr. Straker!" she murmured, overwhelmed by his words.

He smiled again. "My darling woman, why is it that no one is capable of saying my name quite like you do? I shall be sorry indeed once you know my first name, for I fear no one will ever call me Mr. Straker in quite that way again."

She looked at him from under her lashes. "If I promise to call you Mr. Straker at least once a day, will you then tell me your name?"

"I'd have to get the promise first." He led her to a shady spot and set out a blanket for her to sit on. He retrieved a wedge of cheese from her saddlebag and handed it to her, so that they could share a snack.

She gazed solemnly at him for a moment, then said, "Mr. Straker, I promise always – or for as long as I am privileged to know you – to call you Mr. Straker at least once daily."

He kissed her hand. "Very well, my Lady. I accept those terms."

She gave him a look when he said nothing more. "Well, sir? What is your given name?"

"Edward. But mostly, I am called Ed by those who actually use it."

"Edward," she breathed softly, trying it out. "It suits you." She smiled at him, only to find him staring at her intensely. "What?"

"Say it again!" he urged her, pressing her hand in his.

"Edward," she repeated, meeting his eyes.

He framed her face with his hands and kissed her, full of the wonder of her. When he pulled back to breathe, he said against her jaw, "I take it all back. I won't hold you to your promise. Please call me Edward all you want."

She smiled at him in bemusement. "I will call you anything you wish if you kiss me like that."

He chuckled. "God, I love you!"

She touched the hair at his temple, brushing it back from his face even though it wasn't really out of place. "Your love means more to me than anything else I have ever known. I want you to know that I shall never forget you, even if we never become lovers. It has been enough just to be considered your friend. And although I shall be forced some day to wed again, please know that he shall never hold a tithe of the place in my heart that you occupy. No one could. You have given me more kindness in these few weeks than I have known in a lifetime. I did not even know that I was starving until you gave to me."

"Louise, Louise!" he murmured, kissing her hands passionately. "I cannot leave you. I _will_ not leave you! Please marry me. I know I have nothing to offer you. No money; no lands. I know that you will be regarded by some to have married beneath you. I know all the reasons I shouldn't ask you. But I cannot bear the thought of ever living without you. I need you, dear Lady. I adore you. Please consider the possibility of marrying me."

"I do not need to consider it, Edward," she said breathlessly. "I will gladly marry you!"

"You must analyze the situation first. I don't want you to ever regret your decision, and there are those in society who will look down on you for this marriage. If I could change that, I would. But I know of no way to become a peer of the realm without years of service to the king first."

"It's of no importance, I assure you."

He shook his head. "You would not enjoy being snubbed, my Lady."

"My dear sir," she said in fair imitation of him. "Look at this hair! I have been a pariah all my life! Why should I care what society says of me? Have they ever accepted me as I am? Treated me with any kindness beyond their own interests? Please. I am quite happy to be a social outcast. I have been one long before I met you."

He searched her eyes, needing her to be sure. She merely smiled at him, and touched his cheek. He grabbed her up into a fierce embrace, kissing her all over her face. "Louise! Louise!"

After a while, she pulled back from him to ask, "Does this mean, my dear Mr. Straker, that we will finally be lovers?"

He met her dancing eyes with a wicked grin. "Most assuredly, my Lady. As soon as possible."

Her breath caught. "Tonight?"

His grin widened, and he nipped her bottom lip playfully. "Now, my Lady."

She gasped. "Now? _Here?_"

He nodded, his sparkling blue eyes on hers.

"Oh, my!" she said, then continued after a moment's cogitation. "Well! I suppose I can assume by this that I shall not find this marriage boring?"

He laughed. "I think I can promise you that, at least, my Lady."


End file.
